


baby don't you (over analyze)

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holster sings to Ransom more than is probably platonically expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby don't you (over analyze)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettyfaroutman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyfaroutman/gifts).



> aaa it's posting week!!  
> happy holidays everyone! i hope you're all having a good holiday season so far. prettyfaroutman wanted some twitter ransom/holster and i was a little nervous, because i'd never written them before, but this was super fun to write.  
> many thanks to [shortlimbs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shortlimbs/works?fandom_id=1147379#_=_) ( [@sadquebecois](http://sadquebecois.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) for being my beta!
> 
> title from cold cold man by saint motel

The thing is, Holster knows this isn’t the most productive course of action. He’s aware—it hasn’t escaped him. He just... started wooing his best friend through song last month, and he hasn’t had a reason to stop.

It’s probably not going to amount to anything, because Rans doesn’t like him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hope.

Because he can totally hope.

 

 

### [helpless. hamilton soundtrack]

 

There’s always some stupid song stuck in his head, and Holster sings it while he walks home with Rans. He shoulders his backpack and watches Ransom roll his eyes, because even though he’s got it on good authority that his voice sounds pretty damn great, you can still get tired of it.

He slings an arm around Ransom’s shoulders and sways, making Rans move with him.

 _“And suddenly I’m helpless!"_ Holster yells rather than sings. Ransom cringes.

“No,” he hisses, facing down towards the sidewalk. “Why are you doing this to me?”

 _“Oh look at those eyes!”_ He crows, purposefully off key. He’s being obnoxious; he knows it, but shit, this is fun. “Come on Rans, you’ve got to help me out.”

Ransom sighs before singing, and he isn’t half bad. He’s not stellar, his voice rough from lack of practice, but it’s nice. It’s kinda pretty. _“Down for the count and I’m drownin’ in it.”_

Holster whoops as they walk up to the Haus, and Ransom shakes his head as he laughs.

 

### []

 

 “You need to put on a fucking shirt,” Holster says. “Bits is gonna kill us if we’re late for team dinner.”

 “I’m coming,” Ransom says, exasperated, like he hasn’t been getting dressed for the last twenty minutes. “Come on, Holster, your sisters can’t be worse than me.”

“Jess has a ten minute limit on picking out her clothes, and Riley couldn’t give a shit,” he says. “Now come on.”

“Shhh.” Ransom says. “I’m coming, cool your jets.”

 

### [cold cold man. saint motel]

 

Holster flops down onto his bed with a quiet whomp next to where Ransom is camped out with a blanket.

“Bro,” he says. “I’m all for sharing, but you know you’ve got your own bed, right?”

Ransom looks over at him, deep circles cut under his eyes.

“Something’s touching me,” he says. “I just need a nap for the game.”

Holster looks at him and sighs.

“Scoot your booty,” he says, picking up his laptop and sliding in next to him. “Have you seen my headphones?”

“Under the bed,” Ransom says tiredly and oh. He’s kinda stuck here. He really should be used to this. He’s been living with Ransom for years, and still here they are, with Holster basically ready to do whatever Ransom wants. 

“Thanks.” Holster says quietly. “Sleep well, Rans.”

Ransom mumbles a you too even though Holster’s watching Netflix and tucks himself in. He falls asleep closer to the edge, but it’s a long twin, so there’s not much space to be spared. Ransom is a clingy sleeper anyways.

They end up with Holster’s laptop on the ground, only one of his headphones in, and Ransom’s head curled up against his shoulder.

His show’s done.

He should really move. He should. It’s a bad idea to sit here and essentially hold Ransom. But still, he doesn’t want to move.

 _“You’re the only one worth seeing,”_ He breathes, words barely leaving his mouth. _“The only place worth being. The only bed worth sleeping’s the one right next to you.”_

 

### []

 

He tells himself that he’s not going to let himself turn into a puppy. He’s not going to be one of the characters from his show, crawling towards the boy even though the boy has no clue what the shit is going on. He’s better than that, is what he tells himself.

He’s also lying to himself, coincidentally.

He and Ransom spend a lot of time together, so it was kind of stupid for him to think that he might be able to run from his feelings, or even from Ransom's talking about the girl he was trying to date.

He’s gone and screwed himself is what’s happened.

He sits down at the counter, carefully making sure that he doesn’t smash any of Bitty’s baking. He rubs at his eyes and groans before Bitty sets his spoon down.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully, already grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge and a bowl from the cabinet.

Holster might just lose it right there. It’s a lot.

Bitty dishes up pie and hands it over with the spray can of whipped cream. Holster would cover the thing, but the pie’s too good for that. He only puts whipped cream on like, half of it.

He takes a bite, closing his eyes and chewing before saying anything. It’s fantastic, as expected. Pecan. He must be in some kind of fight with Jack.

“Boys,” he says, gesturing with his fork, “Are stupid. Myself included.”

Bitty turns and starts cleaning up his kitchen, putting the dishes from his latest pie beside the sink and plugging the drain so he can fill it with warm, soapy water.

“Tell me about it.”

 

Holster decides that instead of talking this out with Ransom, he’s just going to be super obvious. Even though it hasn’t worked yet, it’s still probably his best shot.

He may have to plead insanity later, because this is more than a little crazy.

He’ll work it out then.

 

### [fashion.  The royal concept]

 

Holster and Ransom have been stealing each other’s clothes since freshman year. It’s a thing. It’s maybe even a D-Line thing, because he’s pretty sure that Dex and Nursey do the same thing. They might do it a little more grudgingly though, because they’re not as close as Ransom and Holster are.

It works out well on school spirit days and stuff, because sometimes they’ve got to wear something other than their hockey team tee shirts and Ransom’s parents bought him a hoard of school pride gear. 

“Hey, Rans?” he yells down the stairs to where Ransom’s taking a shower. Shitty yells something, but Holster will apologize later. They’ve got to leave in fifteen if they want to make the city bus, and their building is on the other side of campus. “Where’s that hoodie, the one with the stripes?”

“Look on the shelf in the closet!” Ransom yells through like, four walls, but he gets the message across.

Holster fishes out the hoodie and pulls it on, rubbing his bangs where it messed up his hair.

He starts humming and grabs his homework from where it fell off of his desk as Rans walks into the room.

_“Cuz I love the way you wear on me, your fashion is so wild and free.”_

“That song is filthy,” Ransom says as he changes.

“It is not,” Holster protests. “There’s like, subtext and it’s nothing compared to some of the shit I’ve heard you listen to.”

“Subtext my ass,” Ransom says. ”Come on, we’ve got to get to class.”

 

### []

 

Ransom brings another date back to the attic. That’s his right—he’s in college too. He’s allowed to have as many hookups as he wants, but it still sets Holster’s ass on fire, knowing that there’s somebody else in his room doing who knows what with his best friend. He stomps around the Haus for like, ten minutes before their bed slams against the wall and all the fight just goes out of him. It just... goes. It’s gone, and he’s just drained.

He needs something to do that isn’t going red in the face yelling over the fact that his best friend is getting some. It’s Friday night, this isn’t how things should be happening.

He knocks on Bitty’s door, and thankfully, Bitty opens.

“Holster?” he asks, and he’s understandably confused.

“You busy?” he asks, and Bitty shakes his head. “Then let’s get drunk and watch Soaps.”

“What—“ he starts before something slams again, and Holster stops himself from cringing.

“Alright.” Bitty says. “I’ll get snacks, but we’re not sitting on that awful couch. You go get the beer.”

They watch Grey’s Anatomy until four am, and Holster falls asleep on Bitty’s floor, not wanting to go up to his room until he’s sure it’s all clear.

 

### []

 

Things don’t change drastically.

They probably should, because singing to Ransom is effectively useless, and Holster’s just making himself angry, but they don’t. Instead, things stay exactly the same as they always have been. Holster does things with Ransom, sings songs that he’s probably ignoring, and tries not to flip his shit when Ransom brings people to the Haus.

It’s fine.

Well, it’s not, but it’s as close to fine as they’re going to get.

 

### [i hate you. if/then]

 

It all falls into place at a Haus party, as many things do.

The team won the game, but Ransom and Holster definitely did not. They flubbed so many plays that they were eventually pulled, leaving Nursey and Dex, along with the third line pair, to take over.

Samwell wins with Holster on the bench, and Holster thinks it might be his fault, but he’s also not ready to go there because fuck that noise, their weird isn’t all on him.

They organize their kegster, because its’s what they’re supposed to do. Because it’s what they always do, and they’ve got standards to uphold. They’ve got to have a place for like, sixty people to get shitfaced on a Saturday night. It’s kinda their thing.

That doesn’t mean they have to be happy about the literal worst game they’ve had in years.

Holster avoids Ransom, because he’s in a sour mood, and he’s not prepped to handle that right now. He helps Bitty tape off the upstairs rooms and helps Shitty mix the monster that is Tub Juice© all without Ransom.

He manages to get though half of the party without having to deal with him, stepping out on the porch for some air. The number of people in the den has become unbearable.

He spits showtunes under his breath, angry, hot, and vicious. _I love you I hate you I totally blame you._

“Holster?”

“What?” he snarls. Ransom steps back, and Holster takes a breath. “Sorry, what?”

Ransom’s quiet for a moment, like he’s not sure he should say anything. “Did I do something wrong?”

The answer to that is probably no. It’s probably Holster being an asshole, and he just needs to get over himself. That’s probably it.

On the other hand, he’s stuck in this weird soap opera where he’s in limbo trying to get Ransom to pull his head out of his ass.

“You know,” he says. “At this point, I don’t know anymore.”

 

### []

 

There’s a beat. Two. Three.

Ransom looks at Holster, and he realizes that this, not the singing thing, tops out on stupidity. He takes a breath.

“I’m going to do a thing,” he warns. “Don’t freak out.”

“Bro.” Ransom says. “I’m not gonna freak out, but you’ve got to let me know what you’re—“

Holster interrupts him with a kiss. He nearly bowls him over, his hand going to the base of Ransom’s skull and pulling him close. There’s a split second where Holster thinks _this is it, this is all I’m going to get_ before Ransom grips at him and pulls him close. He can feel the heat of his skin through their tee shirts and shorts.

He could do this forever. He could make out with Ransom on the Haus porch and not talk about anything and just hope everything will be fine and that would be great, but then he wouldn’t know if he was just one of Rans’ hookups, and he doesn’t want that.

So he steps back.

“I’m going upstairs," he says, looking at Ransom’s stupidly dumbstruck face and his smooth lips. “You digest all of this.”

He’s probably a horrible person. He’s probably just screwed up everything, and nothing’s ever going to be the same.

Holster scales the stairs. He sits. His bed is cold, but his room still isn’t quiet with the kegster raging below him.

He’s terrified.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Ransom opens up their door and Holster freezes. He stalls on his bunk and watches, waiting to see what Ransom does next. Ransom sits beside Holster and the bed dips. He reaches out.

“Let’s talk about this.”

 

### []

 

Holster hums before burying his face in Ransom neck.

Ransom hits him with a pillow.

 “If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, that’s the only time you’re ever going to make out with me.”

The words sound like a threat, but he’s laughing, so Holster’s not too worried.

 

[]

 

“So, you want to tell Bitty or something?” Holster asks. “I know you’ve got a thing during your squat sessions where you gossip.”

“Sure? You’re the only one I’d _really_ want to tell, and that’s kind of counterproductive.” Ransom says, and Holster laughs.

“Hey, Rans.” He says. “Guess what? I finally worked up the nerve to tell my best friend I was crushing on him. Then we made out for like, an hour.”

“Hey, Holster.” Ransom says and he’s smiling so his eyes crinkle up. It’s nice. Holster likes it. “Guess what—“

“What?” Holster interrupts before Ransom shoves at him. He’s got the right to be an asshole. He’s gonna milk this honeymoon period—he’s very good at getting on Ransom’s nerves.

Ransom sighs, but he’s fond.

“I wasn’t just projecting, and I think my best friend might love me too.”

 

### [jealous. nick jonas]

 

Ransom and Holster decide together that it’s probably not a good idea to cryptically communicate through song anymore. Serenading each other with annoying pop songs is still fair game, though. 

Holster does this often. This is how he ends up stealing Nursey’s sunglasses and singing, loudly, at Ransom, while they wait for Shitty to get back with monster because they really need caffeine.

They really need caffeine. Finals are coming.

Because finals are coming, Ransom is tense and nervous. It’s almost painful to sit next to him. He needs to do something about that.

 _“I turn my chin music up and I puff out my chest.”_ Holster presses a kiss to Ransom’s cheek before leaning against his side.

“No," he says, exasperated. “You’re not doing this again. This is a library, Holster.”

Holster grabs his water bottle to use as a microphone.

_“I’m getting ready to face you.”_

“Holster.”

_“And you call me obsessed.”_

Ransom gives in, setting down his textbook. He turns to watch the show. He smiles.

_“It’s not your fault that they hover, I mean no disrespect.”_

He pitches up his voice, _“It’s my right to be hellish, I still get jealous!”_

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
